Today, the world is tearing open
Everyone I know is crying
women, men
this is what our anger becomes
when our fire runs out and
we realize what we’ve done
This is how we bare our souls
with honest feeling
in safety
why should we alone endure our gief?
In the fray, the pages rend –
this time not my hand to blame –
yet the rip reveals remembrance
that recollection cannot heal
Bearing loss, the heartache felt
heavy as a pack
carried uphill over many days
heavier now,
as if weight was added still
Sorrow, the melancholy blues
I haven’t felt you in a while
and here you are anew
We may wallow in anguish, woe —
briefly — as we fall into
the cracks
as night chases the sun away
we can wish for tomorrow’s gift:
a day that destroys our dismay
permanently.
The Halfwit Writer 